Shadows
by sleepywreck
Summary: Mission goes wrong and Kakashi is stuck in the Outside. The enigmatic circle of acquaintances he finds himself among may be his saving or his downfall.
1. The Cold and the Predator

Sup, I'm here! Woah, this was long coming and I was pretty damn sure it was dead. I had half of the second chapter for ages, but couldn't really force myself to write anything for it. I'm posting whatever I have now just because. I don't really know in which direction I want this to go so it is at even greater stalemate than before. I'll try to complete this story at least to some sort of finale so it wouldn't just hang here.

Obviously, my style has changed a lot. I'm abusing present tense and Kakashi's POV a lot here. Also, I'll update my bio so anyone interested can nag me on my tumblr. Enjoy!

**IIIIII**

The cold is sinking into his bones, freezing him inside out, eating away what wisps of consciousness he still retains.

His clothes are wet and now, while he is lying in the snow they're turning into ice. He failed the mission and his interaction with the enemy left multiple lacerations and bruises along his body.

His death is now inevitable. The cold the only thing left. The pain and hunger and thirst – all fall away. His last coherent thought is 'this is how it happens'. Then it's gone.

**IIIIII**

It hurts. His body is on fire and his brain seems intent on mixing itself into a paste of pain. The cold is a distant memory and instead he feels thousands of heated needles in his muscles.

He tries to analyse the situation. He failed his mission. He was captured. He was- . He ran away. He was cold. From then to now somebody found him and transported him. His body is still unresponsive. Blood loss and wounds render him weak an helpless. He can feel, however, bandages up and down his limb, wrapped around his torso, covering his neck. Then he becomes aware of quiet gasps. For a second unsure of where they're from Kakashi realises it's his own throat that's making them.

Then words reach him. He leaves his struggling mind aside and concentrated on them. Soothing, concerned tone. When was the last time he heard anyone talk to him like this…? Ah… Iruka. Someone's hands are touching him and he withdraws, but they're gentle instead of being harsh. The gasps turn into sobs and Kakashi's only distantly aware of clutching fabric in his fist.

Now that he can feel it, he can't stop. His body is trembling and the realisation that it's the first time in months that he feels safe hits. It's just like Iruka, even though it cannot be Iruka. He's at home, safe in Konoha. And so Kakashi tries to move away, but to no avail. The stranger holds him tight and he feel consciousness slipping out of his grasp.

**IIIIII**

The next time he wakes up the world is much clearer. He feels content. Even the lack of physical sensations isn't alarming. Kakashi allows his gaze to wonder around the room he's in, without moving his head. He stops as his eyes stray over the stranger sitting at the minuscule desk near the window. The guy, a teenager, is leaned over a book, teeth worrying the end of the pen in his hand. The concentration is palpable and Kakashi uses it to study him.

The teenager is wearing a once bright sweater, now dulled by long wear, and torn down jeans. One of his legs is tucked under him and he sits in the peculiar way teenagers manage. Like cats, balancing on the most uncomfortable surface, complete with twisted arms and legs all around them. Then Kakashi notices the wooden stick, visible because teenagers left sleeve has slipped down towards his elbow.

The leather holster is frighteningly similar to the ones his captors had and despite the clear lack of threats in this situation, Kakashi can feel his pulse rising. Despite his attempt to stay unnoticed, his breathing becomes shallow and his fists crunch the blanket till his skin turns white.

Kakashi doesn't even notice that he no longer watches the teenager, before he feels gentle hands running through his hair. Defending himself is an ingrained response, but it seems absent now, as the stranger radiates calm. And after the first few minutes of serenity, it sets him on the edge.

Without giving away his distrust, Kakashi slowly relaxes and directs a questioning gaze at the teenager.

'It's alright now. Don't worry.' The guy assures him. 'What's your name?'

Kakashi stays silent at that. The teenager sighs.

'It's okay. If you want I can give you mine first. I'm Harry.' He says, with what seems like a curious look. It's just that Kakashi himself has given this look too many times to miss the spark of relief at non-recognition (though that happened sparsely to him).

Kakashi just nods hesitantly without giving his own name. The smile on so-called Harry's face is understanding, but Kakashi can feel the underlying thread of tension. After a few moments of silence, Harry seemingly gives up and with a sigh relinquishes his grip on the harmless façade. Nothing seems to change, but Kakashi knows that Harry understands he's not harmless and not as confused as he lets on. The underlying tension seems to disappear and suddenly Harry is not someone Kakashi would want to face in a fight.

'I get that you don't want to tell me your name, but I really wish to call you something.'

And really, even though giving up your name is not something any shinobi would do, Kakashi has come to realize that almost no-one knows him or of him on the Outside. Giving up his name may increase Harry's trust and might just give him a chance to get away. With that, he stops analyzing the situation and decides to trust his intuition, which is always more reliable when he's hurt or otherwise distracted.

'Kakashi' he says. And with that one word, Harry seems to brighten. The grin that stretches across his face does not seem fake, but Kakashi knows it hides something. Oh well, it's too late to take it back now.

**IIIIII**

Harry continues to hover around Kakashi for the next two or three hours, clumsily cleaning up the table, sorting piles of books on the floor, and making them tea. It seems familiar and placating, but Kakashi recognizes it for it is. The second time Harry steps out into what seems to be a pantry with a load of jars in his hands, Kakashi is out in a few seconds.

Closing the door behind him, he chooses a direction and starts running.

**IIIIII**

It turns out that running away is not smart at Kakashi's condition. Not half an hour into his escape, he's crawling through the snow and berating himself for his stupidity. Maybe it's from the injuries, maybe it's something Harry had given him, but Kakashi's mind is foggy. The harsh wind does a good job of waking him up, but it's not enough.

If not for the blizzard mixing skies with the earth, he would have left a red trail behind him, for he can feel his reopened wounds. Kakashi wouldn't even mind being in the cabin again, even with a stranger if he wouldn't have to suffer the million needles piercing his skin and burrowing into his bones.

Then Kakashi hears a howl and for a few moment his mind goes blank, just as it had hundreds of times before seemingly certain death. Being a dog summoner, he's on good terms with Fire nation wolves. That doesn't seem to transfer to the Outside.

Everything else, unfortunately, does, so he's certain there is a wolf pack on his back. Probably after the overwhelming smell of his blood, because even the snow cannot hide the coppery tang in the air.

Kakashi presses his body to the ground and goes through his pockets. Then he remembers that it's unlikely anything has been left to him. First, after his captors and then, when the stranger changed him. The resignation comes as it had times before, but where a civilian might give up, Kakashi ignores it, lets it pass as a cloud of ineffective emotion over his mind.

However, as panicking is out of question, he's left with no options. Crawling forwards seems the only logical action, though which direction is forward is unclear. He isn't left alone with his doubts for long, though. Only shinobi instincts save Kakashi's throat. Fangs sink into his hands.

For a moment one grey eye meets two gold ones and Kakashi is thrown into the snow with a massive wolf above. He knows this is the end. Just as many times before, he embraces the fact and continues fighting because that's what he _does_.

And yet, the feeling of dread is different. It's not the enemy shinobi, which he can trick and deceive. It's a natural born predator. He managed to escape the cold. Second time against mother nature won't be so lucky.

He closes his eye, ready to take whatever is thrown at him. He does not expect it to be another wolf, however. Especially, as the second wolf seems intent on ripping the throat of the first one. It's midnight black, a slender shadow in the blizzard. It's body is slender, yet strong, and it radiates power. The first wolf doesn't last long.

Kakashi knows he should run. And yet, he cannot stop staring. A thought appears, that this is how death looks like. Not the many times he has been certain were the last. But this beast, a shadow that leaves only blood and bones behind himself. It's scary how every time that seems like a new thing to Kakashi.

As it approaches Kakashi, the two perfect amber with deeply simmering gold and a vibrant green line around the iris meet his. Then the wolf form starts changing. It bends and stretches and there is a boy where the wolf stood seconds ago.

The air of danger dissipates and Kakashi is left reeling, confused. Maybe he just hallucinated what has happened? But the pain in his arm is real. And the boy has vibrant green eyes, just as the outline in the wolf's, and there are rings of amber around the pupils. And so he doesn't resist when Harry raises him up, and they start walking through the storm.

**IIIIII**

Once inside, it seems that nothing has changed. Kakashi's failed escape attempt is regarded with humour and Harry sets about preparing tea and warming the soup, which was apparently made with Kakashi's condition in mind. Despite being in unfamiliar territory he doesn't feel threatened.

His opinion of Harry, though, changes. Kakashi has seen a few shinobi who could hide their professionalism, power, experience behind the mask of cheerful oblivion. His own being one of the variations. Harry's mask, however, feels more like just another layer of his personality, like something he enjoys manipulating, playing with. The most dangerous shinobi were the ones who managed to transform their mask into another part of themselves. There were demons beneath and Kakashi wasn't sure he wanted to see Harry's after the display in the blizzard.

That was another reason to worry. The casual display of power beyond everything Kakashi has seen indicated familiarity with power in general. Something he has seen only in seasoned and highly dangerous shinobi before.

More than that, however, he was uneasy about his inability to judge people around him. Magic, as he has come to know it in the Outside, seemed to have vague rules and strange limitation, and while some skills were obviously above average, he couldn't scope Harry's power compared to his captors, for example.

Either way, the plan of action now was to heal, learn more about Harry and magic, and search for clues about what Harry wants from him. Not the most satisfying, but the most concrete plan he could come up with with his mind blurring and the room loosing straight lines. Only then he realizes he's slipping. It's too late.


	2. 12 Grimmauld place

Second chapter immediately? YAS!

**IIIIII**

When Kakashi wakes next, Harry is gone, only the fresh set of bandages on the side table marks his previous presence. There's a lot to consider, but all of it – evaluating the situation, examining his host, planing the escape; all of it can wait. Kakashi can't stop himself from basking in the soft warm shadows of the flames in the fireplace and marvelling at the high thread count of the heavy blanket on him.

It has been long since his last chance at such luxuries. At one point in his life he thought them at all unbefitting for him. Now he rarely cares enough about propriety and pride not to indulge.

He only has a few hours of rest before the door opens to reveal Harry. The humming, which Kakashi already started associating with the man, is absent and his face is strangely blank. Only a few moments later, however, Harry's gaze strays upon his guest and the strange smile is there again.

'Hm. How are you now?' Harry inquires, his tone soothing.

Kakashi raises his hand to scratch his neck (a gesture to distract) but stops upon feeling the pain race up his shoulder. (He nevertheless succeeds in looking absentminded). It's disconcerting. This feeling of dependence that comes with a body that's no longer sure what is its and what isn't.

He says he feels fine (not really; he's not ready to examine it too closely). Harry's smile widens. It is, however, not real. Harry is not real as well, Kakashi now notes. Like a series of carefully choreographed movements make up a dance, Harry consists of intentionally harmless little gestures. The blankness of his earlier expression was how he looks alone, when there's no audience to present for.

Kakashi thinks that's how comfort feels. Both of them know the other. Like Harry, he presents a picture (absentmindedly allowing to change his bandages). He thinks they're going to get along.

That's good, because according to Harry, they'll have to stay here for another two weeks, before returning to civilisation. Kakashi's glad for the respite.

**IIIIII**

The weeks pass slowly yet interestingly. Mostly, they talk. Kakashi tells about Iruka, shares some stories of unsuccessful wanna-be students of his. Once, in the dark of the night, he recounts the facts of war, both the front lines, and the one going on inside his head. Harry seems to understand.

Harry's stories are different. He talks of the relatives with whom he lived, the friends at his school, also of magic. Most of his stories are comical or told as such. He wonders what made Harry into what he is today. He doesn't ask.

Other times, Kakashi reads. There are too many books in the little cabin and magic has to be involved to somehow keep the residents from being swallowed by them. He might say he learns about the outside world. And he does, but he knows that Harry is censoring what to give him.

So while they don't do much - Kakashi too weak and Harry waiting for something, they get along fine, which makes the time flow. Soon the weeks are up and he sits on a rough wood stool, while Harry runs around gathering things.

Kakashi remarks how Harry doesn't take much, and the other just smiles secretly. He has given Kakashi clothes and somehow made his hair seem reddish-brown. His face still reveals Asian ancestry but not too much, like it's a generation or too into the mix. Overall, it's unremarkable.

Harry shares that he did mention his one plus to the extraction team. Kakashi smiles at that. Soon they're outside and the cabin is blazing. A fire snake is slithering up to the roof. A wolf howls inside. It's an impressive sight and Kakashi silently admires Harry, who controls all this with only a slight crease between his eyebrows. It suits him. The air of effortlessness.

Then the extraction team comes. On brooms. No matter that Kakashi has read about them, he's not really keen on trying them out now. Since no-one asks him, he gets up on one behind the young man with a mop of red hair and a playful glint in his eyes when instructed. The other man with a slightly wolfish look around him and a frizzy haired woman both exchange short words with Harry before doing the same.

The flight is rather uneventful, despite the fact that the clouds are more wet and cold than fluffy from up close. He's drenched and shivering by the time their altitude decreases and city lights appear beneath. For a second he wonders about whether anyone will see them, but then remembers Harry's covert professionalism and dismisses the thought as not his concern.

The landing is much smoother than the whole flight was and he feels relief with the hard ground beneath his feet. His fellow travellers seem as eager to get off their brooms as he is and despite the silence that still hangs around them, the woman and two men seem to communicate some inside joke that leaves them wistfully staring at Harry.

They walk for a short while at a brisk pace through a rather dull neighbourhood. The houses tall and blackened, as if someone purposefully smoked up the outside of each and every one. The dusk settled on the quiet streets clings to their hair and clothes despite them already being wet. The night is silent and watching.

Finally, the company seems to reach their destination for they stop and Harry comes up to him, leaning over, close to his ear, warm breath sending shivers down his spine. The rest don't seem to notice this.

'Read this' Harry whispers, whilst shoving a piece of paper into his hand. As Kakashi traces the words '12 Grimmauld place' on paper, a scraping noise disturbs the night and the two houses in front of him separate, revealing another one, which seems to shove the others aside and slightly unsteadily take its place between numbers 11 and 13.

**IIIIII**

The house seems like an extension of the night behind their backs. Kakashi stays silent at the inquisitive stares of people meeting them. There seems to be heads mounted on the wall in a neat row further down the hall. An old moth eaten curtain hides something on the left wall.

They're ushered down the hall and into what seems to be the kitchen. A dark wood table takes up the middle of the room, its corners dulled from constant brushing against them. High ceiling hides spiders in shadowy crevices.

Despite that, it feels nice, cast in the soft glow of the flames in a grand fireplace. Kakashi migrates towards it, as do the others, while the red-headed woman calmly makes them tea and heats something up in a giant pot. It's homey, but Kakashi doesn't forget himself.

He takes note of how the frizzy haired woman, who flew on his left and towards the back during the trip, hangs up her robe near the fire before offering the other woman her help with the food. The red-headed man, with which Kakashi flew, spreads out in a chair turned toward the warmth and starts a chat with the wolfish man who flew on Kakashi's right. The only other occupants of the room are Harry, who seems busy chatting with the women, and a man with black hair and a sharp scowl.

Despite the unfriendly demeanour, the man seems the only one intent on watching him. Kakashi puts on his innocent and well meaning smile, but it does not entice any reaction from the man. That makes him cock his head and slowly turning towards him sends a clear signal of invitation. The man does not wait.

'Severus Snape' he introduces himself. Then waits for Kakashi's reaction.

'Kakashi Hatake' his response is short and to the point. Snape's scowl lessens at that.

'And who are you, Mr Hatake? You made Potter interested and, though I would not trust his judgement, I have yet to make my own'.

This might prove to be interesting, Kakashi thinks and puts on his best bashful grin.

'I'm just an unlucky no-one. Apparently stupid enough to risk my life in a wrestling match with wolves. Wouldn't be here if green-eyes hadn't saved my neck'.

'Well, if Potter had to save you, you really are unlucky' Snape responds and he must have completed some sort of assessment on Kakashi because seconds later his expression falls flat and his voice becomes steady dry and void of emotion.

'What are you doing here?' the question, while expected, is still very straight-forward.

For a few second Kakashi watches the other man dispassionately. That's when he feels it – a slow, barely there itch in his mind. He shuts down. Snape's expression doesn't change. Kakashi leans back slightly, more towards fire, puts his hand on his hip, there, under his shirt. There's nothing. His kunai is gone. He'd surge forward, but he feels locked in place.

The itch is no longer such, the overwhelming presence is gaining more ground in his own mind every second. He can now feel the stares of every occupant of the room boring into his head. No longer sure of the emotion reflected on his face, Kakashi fights it, but he knows, can feel it, that memory after memory, thought after thought is slowly being devoured. As fast as it began, it's over.

Before Kakashi knows it, he's pressing the man against the wall, the sound of thousand chirping birds filling the air.

The tension in the room is high enough that everyone stops breathing. For a few moments there's nothing, but then Snape smirks and relaxes.

'Well well, maybe Potter isn't so useless. It seems he's got you figured out.' Kakashi notes Harry shifting.'Do not worry, I have not searched for anything unrelated to us. You childhood memories are safe.'

But Kakashi does not feel safe. It seems none of them actually understand how dangerous he is or worse – they do, but aren't afraid. If they know they can subdue him, he might be in a very bad situation.

The tension, however, dissipates as quickly as it started, with a laugh from Harry, a remark from the red-headed man and Snape smirking quietly at them. Kakashi stands back slowly, turning his back to the wall and staying silent. Measuring threat level was one of his better skills with his sharingan providing an unfair advantage. Now, however, he is completely out of his comfort zone (not that shinobi had one in general. But Kakashi knew that most really good ones have that field of things which no longer prove a challenge).

The time around him starts. He has passed the test he didn't know existed. Everyone is lively and at ease again, as though nothing happened and Kakashi tries to join in on that. He slouches, flicks his eye lazily between people in the room. Harry comes up to him.

Kakashi isn't sure if he should feel betrayed. He understands why Harry did what he did. He saw the shadows of that sort of man beneath those little gestures. A man like himself, maybe. And then he thinks whether Harry slipped up or showed them purposefully. He wouldn't have trusted the man if the act would be revealed now, but it was there all along, little signs of truth, not enough to expose something, but to let Kakashi know that it exists.

Despite everything Harry told him about himself, he still isn't sure where this efficient professionalism comes from. Why everyone – a lively young girl, a ragged man, a bustling house-wife, a good-natured teenager – has it. What have they gone through that makes it their second nature.

He does not ask. Instead, still silent, he helps set the table and allows those questions to rest, now that everyone is more interested in the delicious yet unfamiliar stew.


End file.
